had been very much on his mind lately. Hadn’t he had just flown five thousand miles to see her? The prospect of ambushing her in her office the following morning had brought him a twisted sort of pleasure that had made the journey almost enjoyable.
And now here she was, right in front of him, a vision in tart’s clothing. Never would he have expected to find Kate in a place like this, looking like that. He wouldn’t be here himself if he hadn’t been talked into it by a business associate who had insisted they would talk shop over dinner. One look at the place and he’d almost turned around there and then. But something had made him stay. It must have been a sixth sense.
Unable to tear his gaze way, Nikos had watched on as one guy had slid an arm around Kate’s waist, pulling her closer. He’d felt his hands ball into fists. Steady, now. This was none of his business. Maybe it was all part of the service.
He had waited for some sense of satisfaction to kick in, for a feeling of gratification at seeing what Kate had been reduced to to warm his dry bones. But, strangely, there was none to be had. Nikos could find no consolation in her downfall.
He wanted to. Badly. He wanted to enjoy every minute of this degrading spectacle—to revel in it and to feel it thawing the very core of him. A core that had hardened like stone in the years since their bitter break-up.
But now, as he watched her sliding onto some creep’s lap, the emotion rising in his gullet had nothing to do with comfort or consolation. It was pure rage—so bitter and acrid that it burnt his throat with its vicious bile.
Because Kate O’Connor was his. Or at least she soon would be.
Downing the last of his whisky in one burning gulp, Nikos forced himself to calm down. His every instinct was screaming at him to cross the room, haul Kate off the lap of that revolting sleazeball, fling her over his shoulder and carry her out of this place.
His body positively twitched with the effort of stopping himself. But stop himself he would. Because Nikos was cleverer than that. He was here to claim his ex-fiancée and finally she would do his bidding. She just didn’t know it yet. But right now, it was time to leave.
* * *
Back in her tiny apartment, Kate sprawled down on the bed, burying her face in the covers. That had been one of the most humiliating nights of her life—and lately she’d had a few.
Pulling herself upright, she shifted along the bed and swung her legs over the end, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the top of the dresser. This place was so small that during her first week there she’d had to battle against claustrophobic panic attacks in the middle of the night.
But that had long since passed and she had become used to it. Her spacious penthouse condominium at the top of KK Towers—her family home before it had all gone so badly wrong—was now not much more than a distant memory.
She peered at herself in the mirror, wincing at the sight that met her eyes. She hardly recognised the heavily made-up blonde who stared back at her—which was all to the good. Because that person wasn’t her. She was just a means to an end. An end that couldn’t come fast enough for Kate.
Raising her hand, she grasped a fistful of hair and lifted up the blonde wig, tossing it to one side. She shook her head, running her fingers through her short dark hair before regarding herself again. Better. She had worn this style for over a year now, her decision to crop her long chestnut hair having been an attempt to present a more businesslike, serious persona.
The business might still bear her name, but Kate was no longer the happy, rosy-cheeked kid who had promoted the brand throughout her childhood—whose chestnut plaits and gap-toothed smile had helped to sell several million candy bars and made Kate instantly recognisable.
Now Kate was all grown up. And as head of the Kandy Kate empire it fell to her to stop the rot and save the company. To keep production running. Which meant generating the cash flow needed to pay their suppliers. And looking after the staff—some of whom had been with the company right from the start, who were more like family.
They were loyal employees, who had stood by Kandy Kate through bad times and even worse times, taking a salary cut, sometimes no salary at all, because they had loved her dad. Because they had faith that Kate would get the company back on track...see them right.
And Kate was absolutely determined she wasn’t going to let them down. Somehow she was going to save Kandy Kate—even if she didn’t have a clue how she was going to do it.
Peeling off the hateful false eyelashes, she blinked with relief, then set about scrubbing away her heavy make-up before heading for the shower. She felt soiled, unclean, and the pummelling hot water was doing nothing to remove the scent of the evening that seemed to have crept under her skin, into her pores. But at least she had managed to stick it out until the end, so that would mean she’d get paid.
And, more importantly, she had avoided being recognised by Nikos. That alone made her awful disguise worthwhile.
After finally managing to extricate herself from that creep’s lap, she had shot a panicked glance in Nikos’s direction, sick with dread that he might have witnessed the humiliating scene. But to her immense relief he had gone—vanished. A quick, hopeful glance around her revealed no sign of him, and when his seat had still been empty twenty minutes later Kate had finally let herself breathe.
She had got away with it. Because if Nikos had recognised her he wouldn’t have been able to resist storming over, nailing her with those piercing ebony eyes and watching her squirm with embarrassment. Gloating over how the mighty had fallen.
Because fall she had—from a great height. After Kate’s father had died she and her mother had been left in joint control of Kandy Kate, and between them they had brought the business to its knees. The combination of Fiona O’Connor’s erratic decisions and Kate’s naivety had rapidly turned the thriving, much-loved brand—a household name—into a company on the brink of bankruptcy.
Too late Kate had realised that her mother wasn’t mentally strong enough to have taken on such a weighty responsibility. But by then the Kandy Kate name had already been dragged through the mud—no longer associated with traditional values and a wholesome image but rocked by indiscreet comments from the new boss.
Convinced she knew best, Fiona had waltzed into the office on her first day like an impending storm, immediately making ridiculous demands and crazy decisions. The board had tried to overrule her, but Fiona would have none of it, convinced that they were just being obstructive because they didn’t like her. It had got so bad that anyone who’d tried to stand up to her had been fired on the spot, with senior executives told to clear their desks there and then.
As the carnage had continued Kate had begged her mother to step down, to leave the running of the company to her—for the sake of Fiona’s mental health as well as for the business. But as it had turned out leaving Kandy Kate in her hands had been even worse. Failing to keep a check on the new finance director—appointed by Fiona after the previous one had walked out in protest—Kate had signed papers without looking at them properly and delegated power to him, completely unaware of his fraudulent intentions.
Gullibility, lack of experience, and the fact that Kate had been way out of her depth had cost the company dear. Within months the con man had syphoned off vast quantities of money, leaving Kandy Kate in a more desperate state than ever.
Nearly three years had passed since then, and Kate had wised up considerably. But despite her best efforts—despite selling off just about every asset that Kandy Kate had had left, working all the hours that God sent, begging, borrowing and pleading with banks, investors, and anyone else who might be prepared to pour some serious capital into the business—Kate had got nowhere.
The sad fact was that Kate’s eponymous business was still in a dire state. And, short of a miracle, there was nothing she could do to repair it.
The press, of course, were lapping it up. Fiona O’Connor had always been good tabloid fodder, with her expensive tastes and her erratic outbursts. But, as the face of Kandy Kate, Kate herself was the real prize. Hounded